


Suspended in Starlight

by HereForOQ



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Post Avengers Asgard, Romance, Spoilers, Thor -TDW, Thor loves Jane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereForOQ/pseuds/HereForOQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the great gates of Asgard open, Jane cannot believe her eyes. Thor only has eyes for Jane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Asgard.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the new Thor 2 - The Dark World teaser trailer. 
> 
> This is my first Jane/Thor ficlet. If feedback is positive, it may become multi-chaptered.
> 
> Comments are love.
> 
> I don't own the characters.

The heavy gates of Asgard unfurl, her hand tightens in his. Fingers curled around one another, hearts held, and palms kissing.

Like the threshold of the golden age, gleaming - the beauty of the richness on display, rivers and lakes below them, still holding the last light. She is awestruck, yet his eyes shine only for her.

And he wonders, just what it is that might hold her attention; he wonders if she knows that in her presence, he shines brighter than the Northern lights. His father once told him, that every great dream begins with a dreamer. The words comfort him, sure as he knows that this moment is fleeting.

She turns her head and smiles at him, and he knows that he will savor this scar for happiness.

“…Thor.”

The brightness in her face is so charming to behold. And it takes his breath, such steadfast exclamation, just one word, just the whisper of his name.

There is certain majesty in the simplicity.

And his loins burn, cast out like wildfire, his body consumed. He swallows thickly, and wonders what it might take to sweep her away to the confines of his bedchambers. To sweep the wisps of soft tresses from her face, to lay her down. He aches to bed this maiden so fair.

He watches her fingers trace the gilded surface, sweeping a line as she follows the ebb and flow. His own fingers curl, his hands ball into fists by his side and he stifles a rumble that comes from the back of his throat. His senses are sharp. He will know when she is ready.

She tugs at his cloak, trying to trap his attention; he is absentminded, carnal thoughts weighing heavily on his person. He chastises himself – this is Jane. She deserves better.

“I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s breathtaking, Thor.”

He chuckles beneath his breath and they stand so close that she can feel each exhalation as is ghosts her temple.

“My father, he is very proud of Asgard. Consider this your home, as it is mine, Jane.”

She steps forward, dainty feet making nary a sound despite the echoes that come from the great hall that lingers in the distance. She leans up on tip-toes, the palms of her hands pressed, flat, against the rugged plains of his chest. He holds her gaze, the scent of musk fills his nostrils and he inhales deeply.

He collects her hand, thumb caressing her nimble fingers, and places his lips against her knuckles. Whisper soft, barely there.

He fits thick digits into the space between hers, laced together, and beckons her to follow, pleads for her to trust his judgment.

She feels the breeze as it whips around her ankles. She can try to fight it, but the combat would be in vain. They are magnetic, and she knows above all else, that she and Thor are inevitable.

He pushes through the door to his quarters; his lips bruise hers, his tongue tracing the line of her lips as he backs her towards the spacious mattress. Cloaked in fine linens, rich burgundy and steely blue contrasts against her pale, mortal skin. He maneuvers her with such finesse, that she doesn’t have time to consider the probability that this act may not play out her happy ever after.

It takes him time to unclasp her bindings, but he calms his desire and thinks only of her fervent pleasure. He parts the silken fabric, shucking his own cloak, with the flick of his wrist; his armors retract and bares himself, truly, to her wanton gaze.

The cradle of her thighs welcomes him, the backs of his fingers caress her knee and he follows the trail to the very apex. She is damp where he strokes her, and he grits his teeth. Because though she is mighty, and fierce and clever, here, in his world, she is fragile, vulnerable. She is everything that he would sacrifice himself for.

He cups her breast, and she clutches his arm. His execution belays his strength, and she could be forgiven for believing him a man amongst Gods.

She gasps when he enters her and he whispers as he nuzzles the arch of her shoulder.

“Look at me, Jane. Look right here, at me.”

So she does, and he smiles, and she adjusts and he moves with the ease of practice.

He draws her closer, into his body, long and taut, muscles contracting as he coaxes from her. And when she falls, his name is on her lips and he offers her his promise for the future, for life, and for love.

They are still joined together when he wakes to the desperate calls of his mother, even still when he rouses Jane from her slumber.

She nods, he delegates, and together they scribe a plan of action.

He captures her lips and as he withdraws from the lodgings of her heated flesh, he is quick to assure her that no matter what, he will always be one step ahead.


	2. In the name of the Father.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane leaves Asgard.

Jane sighs as she shuffles the short distance from Thor’s bed to the balcony balustrade, the hems of her skirt bunched as her bare feet shuffle across the frigid floor. The soft, silky shawl, a gift from Thor’s mother - is draped loosely about her shoulders. Numb fingers grip the luscious fabric as Jane lifts the corner to her face, rubbing her cheek against the glossy fibres, they’re so fine, probably hand woven. From her perch high above, the Kingdom of Asgard surrounds her, woven from the hands of a magician, voluptuous sunshine and sparkling waters, and the walls of the palace seem to close in around her as she realises that this is serious, she has just bedded the heir to the throne. 

Her breath catches in her throat because this is his, this is his legacy, visions born of his fathers hope for his son to take up the seat of the King. This is Thor’s destiny.

Jane had struggled, for hours that became days and turned into months, her soul had been tortured with the longing to be by Thor’s side again. She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes and shakes her head, trying to clear the melancholy that once plagued her soul. She tells herself that it was the way that it had to be, Thor owed the good people of Asgard his time, he was rightly responsible for the sanctity of their welfare, and he was justified in fighting for a righteous cause, it had been his duty. Still, that gaping mar in the pit of her belly remains like a knife twisted and turned. 

Human emotions, she is always, forever completely at the mercy of that which she cannot control, sometimes they serve to paralyze her world, if only Thor could understand. She had long ago resolved to repress her feelings where such a conscious mind can not intervene. The resentment that she’d built, and continues to harbour, it’s not his fault, no more than it is his fault for that which he could not control.

She knows, that he was needed elsewhere, that Loki had set off a time bomb of sorts, leaving the chaos to unfurl in his wake. What had Thor told her? Marauders pillaging, worlds in ruin. The lump in her throat is hard to swallow, she knows the definition of anarchy, but Thor made is seem - far worse than the limits of her imagination and the extent that her mind could so rightly conjure. 

It’s selfish, the need to have, the real, tangible proof that Thor is actually there. The fear that he might be gone one day, that he might never return to her, it cripples her far worse than any other thought. And that is so unlike her, the need for fulfilment from somebody other than herself. She has long been self sufficient, and she’s not about to lose her independence. Perhaps Thor is right, it could be fate. Nobody wanted to believe in the existence of the Einstein Ro - the Bifrost, she reminds herself. But it is real, and the fact that she now stands here, basking in the absolute splendour of the wonders of Asgard, she knows that this is irrefutable proof of her life’s work. Absolutely beyond that of a reasonable doubt. 

Right now though, she feels like Dorothy in the Land of Oz. She’s definitely a long way from Kansas, she doesn’t have ruby slippers, but the golden heels that she now sports seem to glint in the light of day. 

There’s no yellow brick road, and she’s not entirely sure what lies beyond the curtain, but perhaps, home is not really a place. Maybe home is flesh and blood. Maybe home is Thor. Earth or Asgard, it makes little difference. 

Jane exhales, because this is scary, she seems to dwell in her thoughts far too often, her musings, her memories past, present and future. This gives new meaning to that old phrase - thinking outside the box, but she knows that the fear can run through everything that she holds dear. 

“Jane?” 

Thor’s voice cuts through the silence, but he does not command the heavens. It’s not low, nor gravely like it had been while he had lain with her. He is humble, too much so for her liking. The tone he holds has a curious power, and she swallows thickly. 

“What is it? Thor? What aren’t you telling me? I thought we’d agreed to be honest with one another.”

His gaze remains at her feet, of all the cowardly acts he has committed, this is by far the worst. But Odin is his king, not only his father, and he must obey a command from the Allfather. As a warrior, as a son, as the crown prince of Asgard and the next in line to the throne. 

He takes her hand, thick digits wrapped around her dainty palm as he raises the pale skin to his lips. This day he holds the moon, and all the stars from the velvet sky. He hesitates - “Forgive me, Jane. The old man is but a fool, and I have little sway where his orders are concerned.” 

His thumb passes across the arch of her knuckles, each like a notch that he is yet to possess, yet he craves just the same. 

“The Allfather has spoken … you must return to Midgard immediately. Even with my brother secured as he is, you are not safe here.”

Even now, as he fits their fingers together, slides his into the spaces between hers, he believes the puzzle to be far from complete. He still needs time, time to make sense out of it, time to slot the last piece into place as it should be. Fate exists to test his limits, but Thor has always been one to stray from the rules where he can. And why would he surrender, when he holds not only the Queen in his hand, but the next move. 

Jane smiles, though it falters, and she’s glad that he’s not looking, because it makes her brave. 

“Well, I mean, we come from two different worlds. I’m a scientist, Thor. Real magic, it doesn’t exist, not where I come from. I mean, I’ve dredged up some pretty unbelievable theories in the past, but most of the department at Culver just thought that I was strange. I guess I am, in a way. But that’s also what makes me unique. I like what I do.”

“Unique.” He repeats the word several times before he is able to find the ability to lift his weary head to look at this beautiful woman, her heart laid bare before him. 

The stillness between them frightens her beyond all things. She can’t breath. And yet he knows that this delicate being, this mortal, possesses more strength than even he, the great God of Thunder, the almighty Thor. For what good is a title, what nobility comes from his actions, when he cannot fulfil his promise. 

Something snaps, he relinquishes his hold, his grip becomes slack and there is nothing between him and the infinite now. Some things are hard to let go of, but he will grant her this, if she so desires.  
“As you wish, Jane. I shall make preparations for your departure.”

He flashes her his brightest smile, one hand rises to cup her cheek, nimble fingers caught in her hair, his thumb caressing the shell of her ear as he tilts her face up to meet his. 

“But know this, Jane. That though we part this eve, I promise you, this is not goodbye.” 

Jane is certain that he can taste the salt upon her lips as the tears spill forth from her lids, clenched, even as tight as they are. 

 

______________________________________________________________

His cloak is secured soundly about his person, studs on his shoulder belying the solid mass of sculpted torso, flesh and straining muscle beneath the veneer. He affords her these last moments of silence, of whispered words with the guardian sentry and Thor’s trusted confidant. Thor will not see Jane make the journey alone, but he knows, that the time draws near. 

He clears his throat, observing the two from beneath veiled lashes. “Heimdall, I am afraid that time is upon us. If you please.”

Sensitive to the battle that wages on within the soul of his king-in-wait, Heimdall offers a warm smile and fond words of farewell and encouragement, because he knows that this will not be the last time that he lays eyes upon Jane Foster of Midgard. 

The heavily gilded falls into place, and Jane clutches at Thor’s shoulders, his arm pulling her impossibly close to the length of his bulky frame. As the kaleidoscope engulfs them and the lustrous sheen shimmers like oil upon water, Heimdall’s parting quip can be heard, clear and concise - “Remember, regret does not sit well, with those who do not forget.”

Jane closes her eyes, she tries to tell herself that when she opens them again in less than a moment’s time, when they have arrived back on her rooftop terrace in London, everything that has transpired in the past twenty-four hours will have been a dream.  
But when the dust settles and the storm clouds disappear, Thor still holds her securely in his embrace, and the tears that taint his armors are very real. 

He steadies her, refusing to relinquish his hold, though he knows that he must. His heart aches. Love and let go. Love and let go. The words echo and he repeats his mantra, because even as he holds her, he is letting her go. 

“The nine realms are still at risk. It is my duty, Jane. I would ask you to understand why I must go.”

Jane says nothing, she can’t, words have escaped her. She lunges at him, hands poised, palms flat on the expanse of chest and broad shoulders in front of her. Thor frowns, but backs up until the frigid nip of cold brick is against his back and Jane is taking advantage of the position as she rises to her toes and crushes her lips against his. 

He drops his faithful, his fingers curl beneath the hem of her blouse and he’s gripping her waist and he’s certain that he will leave bruises. But he can’t bring himself to be concerned when his finger-tips graze the smooth skin of her hip, beneath the waistband of the skirt that she now wears, there is no need for Asgardian finery here. 

Jane’s tongue traces the line of his mouth, begging for him to part his lips, wanting to taste him, at least for the last time. 

He hoists her with the ease of practice, and her heels hook around his thighs. Wide palms capture her face, cradling her cheeks as his head descends to devour her lips, her soul, until they cannot breathe. Platinum plated mail retracts, chinks with the ferocity of the force of his will, but he needs the skin-to-skin contact as he’s left in his leathers. 

He is the patron of fertility and this, this is carnal. His spirit, his flesh, healthy with the lashings of endorphins that ebb and flow through his veins. His loins burn and his system is suddenly heady with the imminent haze of his arousal. His jaw is clenched and he exhales through his nose, his breathing ragged. He will have her. 

And then a voice that he has tried so hard to extinguish, it penetrates the walls erected to contain the bitter notion of his father’s foolhardy opinion.  
Fleeting. The human life is fleeting. 

“No. No, no, no.” Thor falters, but he’s gentle when he pushes on Jane’s shoulder, trying to put some space between them. Jane whimpers and it’s like a sliver of glass that has pierced his heart. Emotions are human, and he, he is not. He is a God, born of a purpose, made for another world. 

“Jane, no. We must not, we must not bow to temptations.”

She does not understand. What has changed in the space of a mere few minutes? His desire is obvious, and thick against the flesh of her thigh. He wants her, he does. 

“Thor? We can go inside. Let’s go inside. I’ll make you some coffee, okay?”

He shakes his head. 

“No. We must not.”

His hand reaches for the mighty Mjolnir, his arms flex and Jane knows that if she doesn’t let go, he will shake her from his frame, like a leaf in the wind, it would cost him naught to do so. 

“Heimdall,” he calls, his voice insistent. “Heimdall, now.” 

Jane has barely a moment to pull the two halves of her jacket around her shoulders and watch as the Bifrost cascades in a blaze of glory, and Thor is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've decided to continue. I know the chapter is not exceptionally long, but I tend to concentrate more on content. I'll endeavour to make them longer in future as I flesh out more of the plot. 
> 
> The story will incorporate aspects of Thor - The Dark World, but the majority of the plot will be original. 
> 
> I am a Thor/Jane shipper, this will be HEA, likely slow burn, and not without a few bumps. 
> 
> The story is unbeta'd. I apologise for any obvious mistakes. 
> 
> Please, feel free to comment. Thank you to those who already have. I appreciate the support.


End file.
